


Her Seventh Year

by GMTH



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Invisibility Cloak, Magic, Orgasm Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-26
Updated: 2003-11-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMTH/pseuds/GMTH
Summary: A series of smutty vignettes showcasing Snape's and Hermione's sexual imaginations. Sex and magic are an unbeatable combination. Pure smut with no redeeming social value whatsoever.Written before Order of the Phoenix was released, so doesn't match the events in canon in that book or beyond.





	1. The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

**Author's Note:**

> One of my earliest attempts at HP fic. Please forgive the POV switches, I was still learning at this point.

_What is she planning?_ he wondered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His dinner sat untouched on the table before him as he pondered what the future might hold. He was long overdue for one of her trademark surprise attacks, and the anticipation both thrilled and unnerved him. A patient man only where the brewing of potions was concerned, Severus Snape was not inclined to be quite so patient when it came to the satisfaction of his physical needs. And as it had been more than two weeks since the last time his most pressing need had been met, he was even further disinclined to wait. 

_I know she's up to something,_ he thought, as he gazed around the crowd of students assembled in the Great Hall that night. _But what?_ His eye surreptitiously sought out one student in particular, and he gazed at her longingly from behind the curtain of unruly black hair covering most of his face. 

With the passing of her 17th birthday that past September, Hermione Granger had reached the age of majority in the wizarding world, and she and Severus had finally been free to consummate the relationship they had at first tried to deny - and then to hide - since her 5th year. Though an innocent before she met Snape, she had quickly proven herself to be surprisingly inventive in all matters sexual, initiating situations and maneuvering them into positions which made for the most mind-blowing sex Snape had ever had. She was far more aggressive sexually than he would have thought possible, given her straight-laced, bookish demeanor in all other aspects of her life. They couldn't get enough of each another, and their sessions were often long and steamy, reducing them both to little more than buzzing, sweating heaps sated to their very cores.

She had been especially busy with schoolwork the past few weeks, and Snape hoped now that the academic pressures which had disrupted their exciting games had passed, they would soon be re-establishing their relationship. At least, that had been her promise the last night they had been together. Pressed up against him in the Restricted Section of the library, she had unbuttoned his shirt to the waist, cupping his balls with one hand while stroking his chest with the other. "This will have to be it for a while," she sighed, nipping at his earlobe. "Lots of work coming up, you know."

He nodded wordlessly as her hand contracted over his stiff cock, and she registered the quickening rise and fall of his chest beneath her palm with satisfaction. Pushing her robe aside, he allowed his hand to glide over her breast, focusing his attention on the generous nipple riding high atop it. "I want to fuck you right here," he growled, fantasizing about pushing her against the dusty stacks of books and hiking one of her legs in the air, plunging into her while she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for the ride. 

She laughed huskily. "Didn't you get enough last night?" she asked, chills prickling down her spine as he trailed his lips along her jawline.

"Never," he replied, nuzzling the notch at the base of her neck. "Come back to my chambers with me. Now."

"I can't," she insisted. "I have to go." But she made no move to leave as he pulled her forward by the hips and ground the proof of his need against her. She allowed him to kiss her deeply one last time before pulling back. It took all the self-control she possessed to resist him standing there like that, so delectably sensual with his bare chest covered with a thin film of perspiration, his long hair tousled where her fingers had run through it. His lips looked bruised and swollen from their frantic kisses, and she could only imagine what she must look like herself. "I'll make it up to you," she whispered. "I promise." 

And for two weeks, he had not seen her except in the classroom and at meal times. Having her in his dungeon classroom - so close by and yet so far from his reach that she might as well have been in a neighboring galaxy - had been an unbearable stress on him. To her credit, she did nothing overt to tease him during class. She was far too conscientious a student for that, and recognized that distracting him could result in someone getting hurt - or worse. But even without any conscious effort on her part, he found himself unable to concentrate on the tasks at hand, keenly aware of her every move instead. Each time she stirred in her chair, crossing or uncrossing her legs under the table, he imagined he could catch a tantalizing whiff of her musky fragrance. The hard-ons she had induced had forced him to spend most classes behind his desk rather than prowling around the room as usual, and his frustration at not being able to have her resulted in a veritable avalanche of lost house points. 

"Man, what is _up_ with that stupid git lately?" Harry had demanded of Ron and Hermione as they exited class after a particularly vicious display. 

Ron's face was flushed bright pink. He had been the unfortunate soul who had suffered the brunt of Snape's anger that afternoon. "Wanker," he muttered. "I wish he would just get himself laid and leave us the fuck alone."

Hermione burst out laughing, unable to stop or explain herself to her friends all the way back up to Gryffindor tower.

****

Hermione had not been in the Great Hall for lunch that afternoon, Snape noticed. _Probably in the library again,_ he thought as he made his way down to the dungeons for his combined Gryffindor/Slytherin class. As was his custom, he waited until all students had taken their seats before slamming the door open and stalking to the front of the room. When he turned to face the class, two things became immediately evident. First, the only students meeting his eye were Slytherins, which was par for the course. All of the Gryffindors were either looking down at their desks or studying points on the wall above his head. 

Second, Hermione's seat was empty.

"Where is Miss Granger?" he asked coldly. 

No one answered.

"Potter!" he barked. Harry's head snapped up in response. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Where is Miss Granger?"

"In the hospital wing, sir," Harry replied, shifting nervously in his seat. "She's been there since this morning."

"I see," Snape said, sniffing disdainfully, but on the inside he was concerned. _I hope she's all right,_ he thought fervently. It was getting difficult to maintain his façade of contempt for the girl, but he knew he had no other choice. "Open your books to chapter nine and read the information on memory potions, paying particular attention to the section on Jobberknoll feathers," he instructed. _There, that ought to take a good half an hour,_ he mused as the classroom filled with the sound of shuffling pages. He settled down behind his desk and picked up his quill, a stack of year essays in front of him waiting to be marked. 

He was halfway through correcting the third of these essays when his mind began to wander, wondering again when he would get another chance to feel Hermione's legs wrapped around his waist. Something brushed against his inner thigh, and he swiped at it absentmindedly, chewing the tip of his quill. A moment later, he felt another, more insistent touch, almost as though someone were kneading the sinew high up on his leg. 

Frowning, he reached into his lap. His hand bumped up against something solid, but when he took a quick glance under his desk he saw nothing. He groped the object situated just beyond his knees, his frown deepening into a scowl as he failed to identify it. _What the hell is going on?_ he thought, scooting back his chair a bit to get a closer look at exactly what was under his desk. 

He reached forward again, and this time caught hold of something which felt like a piece of cloth, though he still could see nothing. He tugged at it a bit and was surprised when it tugged back. Somebody was there. And then it dawned on him what was happening: someone had secreted themselves under his desk using Potter's Invisibility Cloak. To his knowledge, only three students in the entire school were aware of the Cloak's existence, and two of them were sitting in his class at this very moment, relieved at how peacefully class had progressed thus far. That left only one possibility as to who had set up this pleasant ambush. 

He pulled his chair back under his desk, pulse accelerating. Bending his head over the now forgotten essays, he spread his legs apart as far as he could given the confines of the space under his desk. Immediately, he was rewarded with the ghostly feel of her hands working their way up the insides of both thighs. Inexorably, she teased her way toward his tightening crotch, squeezing and pinching the taut muscles as she went. Hot bursts of moist air dancing along the top of his right thigh led him to know she was kissing her way up, as well. 

Soon she had reached the sensitive juncture where his legs met and nuzzled it with her face, nipping delicately at the fabric of his trousers. He stiffened in his seat as she jerked the buttons of his fly open. It was extraordinarily erotic to be caressed in this manner by an invisible lover, especially in so forbidden a location. He was thankful his desk completely blocked the class's view of him from about mid-abdomen down as she worked his erection loose and wrapped her small hand around it. 

It was getting more and more difficult to maintain his air of academic concentration as she held his thick shaft in one hand and stroked the silky head with the other, running the length of her hand over it from the tips of her fingers to the base of her palm and then back again. Shivering with delight, he sat back in the chair a bit, opening his legs yet wider to her. Surreptitiously, he coiled his hand around Hermione's invisible fingers, silently urging her to pump him in the manner he liked best. It was a delicious feeling, and his breathing became shallow as he struggled to preserve the appearance of a hardworking - if somewhat bored - teacher of young minds. 

"Professor?" came a voice from the room in front of him. 

Snape's head snapped up at the sound and he scowled angrily in the direction of the speaker. "What is it?" he snarled, his voice rough-edged with lust. 

The color drained from Pansy Parkinson's face at his tone, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. "I – I have a question about Veritaserum, sir," she said timidly. 

"Quickly, girl," Snape replied. Pansy took the hint and launched into a long, meandering question, speaking rapidly as if trying to finish before she lost her nerve. 

Snape did not hear even a single word of her question, however, because Hermione had also taken the hint, and as Pansy began speaking she took his aching erection into her mouth. He gasped as the warm softness moved across his flesh, thick tongue caressing the large vein on the underside. Recovering quickly, he transformed the gasp into a series of loud coughs, unnerving Pansy so badly she stuttered a few times and trailed off in mid-sentence. Snape bowed his head quickly and pinched the bridge of his nose as though incredibly annoyed that she had dared ask such a ridiculous question.

"Can anyone answer Miss Parkinson's question?" he asked irritably, not looking up. 

"I can, sir," Draco Malfoy piped, and Snape waved vaguely in his direction, casually dropping one hand into his lap to guide Hermione's movements. The changing pressures, angles and suction she employed astounded him. As Malfoy droned on in his typical haughty manner, Hermione drew her head back until only the sensitive apex of Snape's cock was standing on her tongue. She suckled the tip for a moment, then plunged all the way down the shaft again until her nose was pressed firmly into Snape's abdomen. She repeated the pattern over and over again, bobbing up and down like a well-oiled piston.

Finally he could take it no more. "Enough, Mr. Malfoy!" he shouted, startling everyone in the room. "You have obviously not been paying attention at all in this class," he continued, with utter disregard for the fact that he had not heard a word of Draco's explanation. "I am sick and tired of wasting my time with this class, and I have no desire to continue doing so. Go, all of you. And I want you to prepare an eighteen-inch essay on the various uses of Jobberknoll feathers in memory potions for next class. Now get out." 

Somberly, the students got to their feet and shuffled out of the room, the braver ones muttering under their breath. Snape was thrilled to be able to combine his two favorite activities by deducting five points from a Gryffindor student for insolence. 

When the last of the students had filed out, he used a locking charm to secure the door behind them. Hermione scrambled out from under the desk, throwing the Invisibility Cloak off her shoulders. She wore only a camisole trimmed in white lace, and Snape was amazed at her daring for walking through the castle like that, Invisibility Cloak or no. 

"Did I surprise you?" she asked impishly as the cloak fluttered to the ground around her feet. 

He grunted, pulling her into his lap and devouring her mouth in response. She molded her body against his and giggled into the kiss, inordinately pleased with the results of her scheme. She dropped one leg on either side of the chair so she was sitting astride him, her slick cunt just centimeters from his straining prick. 

His need for her was intense, and as quickly as his fingers could manage it, he pulled the camisole over her head and flung it away, then bent his head so his tongue could find her nipple. She moaned and arched her back toward his warm mouth, her body on fire now, aching. Squeezing his erection with her thigh muscles, she held his face firmly against her breasts. He pulled back, blowing a stream of cool air on the nipple until it hardened, then encircled it again with lips, rolling the hard flesh between them. She bore down on him harder, rocking back and forth in his lap, her gratification already beginning to build. He repeated the treatment on the other nipple, trying to slow down the pace and make it last, but the feel of her grinding into him was becoming unbearable. 

Finally unable to wait any longer, his plunged one hand downward, finding her wetness, pressing harder against her. He carefully ran his index finger between her labia, following the path until it was buried inside her, the heel of his hand flexing against her clit. She leaned back slightly to allow his fingers easier access, moaning as he manipulated her expertly.

With the dual pressure of his fingers deep within her and his mouth tugging at her nipples, her orgasm wasn't long in coming. She peaked high and hard, and he continued tantalizing her in order to make the delightful sensations last as long as possible. 

When her orgasm finally faded, she smiled at him and kissed him deeply. "I've missed you, Severus," she murmured. 

"And I you," he replied, as she grasped his cock and pulled it upright, then rose on the balls of her feet to position it between her lips. Slowly, she settled down onto his throbbing cock, working it into her body carefully to enhance the pleasure for both of them. Snape pressed down on her hips in an attempt to enter her faster, but she knew from experience she had to go slowly. Inch by inch it disappeared until she felt his balls bouncing against her ass. 

The feel of him sliding into her, opening her up, made her gasp and throw her head back. Slowly, she ground her hips against him, reveling in the contorted expression of pleasure that came across his face. She teased him mercilessly, varying the speed with which she moved, slowing down when he seemed ready to climb the peak and speeding up when he calmed a bit. He stopped moving altogether and leaned back, eyes closed to ride the waves of pleasure. After a moment, he placed the fleshy pad of his thumb on her clit and began massaging it, knowing she would not permit his release until she came again.

With a groan, he levered his head forward and caught a nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it hard, dragging his teeth along its sensitive tip. The combination of him filling her, sucking her, touching her, was too much. Her second orgasm burst upon her, filling her whole body, and she grabbed the back of his head, crying out his name. Her body wracked as spasm after spasm hit and he continued stroking and sucking her until she pushed his head and fingers away, raw and pulsating. Then she paused for only a moment before bracing her feet firmly on either side of the chair and riding him like a wild horse, seeking now to give him the release he so richly deserved.

Though she had been tight at first, her juices had spread, easing the path, and she now slid up and down on him easily. Over and over he found himself thrust in and out, the pressure building to the breaking point. He felt his orgasm approach, hot come racing up his shaft, and grabbed her hips in his hands, grinding her into him. 

Eyes screwed shut, he rode through his orgasm, stamping his foot against the floor. His throat was raw from the guttural noises he made. When it was over, neither moved, but he could feel their co-mingled juices spreading across his abdomen and upper thighs, the viscous liquids pooling in the space between their bodies. She collapsed against his chest, still gripping him deep within her, and together they waited for their breathing to slow.

"I told you I would make it up to you," she whispered, nestling her head against the curve of his neck. 

He enfolded her in his embrace, the pressure in his balls finally relieved. "Oh no," he panted, caressing the soft, bare skin of her shoulder. "You still owe me. One fuck does not make up for two weeks, my dear." 

"I was hoping you'd say that..." she sighed.


	2. Hobson's Choice

It had been a hellish day, and Snape returned to his chambers in a foul mood. _Some days there really is no point getting out of bed,_ he reflected somberly.

There had been not one but two serious accidents in his classroom that day, resulting in injuries requiring five students to log some time in the hospital wing. Then the weekly staff meeting had dragged out interminably while Flitwick prattled on about his research into Forgotten Charms, and on top of that, Albus had assigned Snape the odious duty of acting as temporary Head of Hufflepuff while Sprout was away at an Herbology conference. It was certain to be a dreadful week, as Snape considered most of the Hufflepuffs the worst kind of dullards imaginable. He could only hope that none of them would have the courage to approach him with a problem; if they did, they would find him considerably less willing than Sprout to listen and most definitely less inclined to help. 

For the thousandth time he wondered why he bothered staying on at Hogwarts. The work was not particularly rewarding anymore, and he could certainly find success – and maybe even happiness – if he went to work brewing commercial-grade potions for sale to those having neither the time nor the inclination to do it themselves. The idea definitely merited consideration, especially after a day like today. 

_If only that pesky business with Voldemort wasn't an issue…_ he thought ruefully. _Wishful thinking, Severus old boy. You're not going anywhere until_ that _little matter is cleared up._

The door to his chambers was unwarded when he got there, and he stopped dead in his tracks, alarmed. Was it merely coincidence that he had been thinking about the Dark Lord only moments earlier and now found that his chambers were unguarded? Or had he been so distracted that morning that he had forgotten to set the wards? 

It was unlikely. He had never been so careless before. 

Which meant someone had been in his quarters while he was gone. Someone who knew his passwords. He frowned, silently drawing his wand, then cautiously pushed the door open. 

The room was filled with lit candles, and the sweet smell of strawberries mixed with hints of vanilla assailed his nostrils. _What's going on?_ he wondered, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

"Hello, Severus," a sensuous voice cooed. "I was wondering when you'd get back."

Hermione sat up in his bed, the sheet drawn around her so that only her bare shoulders were revealed. Her eyes sparkled in the reflected candlelight.

Snape exhaled in relief. He had been expecting a far less pleasant surprise. 

"How did you get in here?" he asked. She had been there before, of course, but never alone like this. 

She smiled slyly. "It's a secret," she replied. 

"You nearly scared the life out of me," he retorted. "This wasn't a good idea. Don't do it again."

Casually, she allowed the sheet to drop a bit so that one breast was exposed. Her creamy skin glowed in the candlelight, the areola an enticing shadow in the very center. "I'm sorry," she said in a tone of voice that indicated she was not the least bit sorry. "You're right. I'll go."

He crossed the room in three strides and sat beside her on the bed. "Not necessary," he said in a deliberately offhand way. "Since you are here, you might as well stay." 

"Well, thank you very much," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her words. She leaned forward to kiss him, outlining his lips with the tip of her tongue before slipping it between his teeth. 

It took only moments for him to shuck off his robes and slither into the bed so they were lying belly to belly under the sheet. Her cool body felt deliciously sensual next to his warm skin, and he relaxed into her curves, draping one leg over her hip. She kissed him deeply, pushing her pelvis forward ever so slightly to tantalize the hardened flesh captured between them. 

A deep sound of appreciation rumbled through his chest. "This is exactly the type of therapy I need right now," he said, tweaking one of her stiff nipples. 

"Had a rough day, did you?" she asked, stroking his upper arm. He nodded, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. "Then let me help you relax," she said, pushing on his shoulder until he was lying flat on his back. 

He settled back into the pillows with a contented sigh as she began kissing her way down the trail of hair on his abdomen. He was soon lost in sensation: the teasing strokes of her fingertips on his inner thigh, the release of gravity's hold on his balls as she cupped them in her palm, the gentle fluttering of her tongue across his glans. Her hair was spread across his chest like a soft blanket, and he unconsciously grabbed a handful of silky strands in each fist, stroking his skin with it as she leaned forward and engulfed him with her mouth. 

"Ahhhh, yes…" Snape moaned, pressing his head further into his pillows. 

She moved at slowly at first, her mouth closed over him just enough for him to feel its damp heat but not its pressure. Long, languid movements designed to mollify rather than entice. Then she began working her tongue, bathing his shaft from base to tip with wet caresses. He was soon passing the point where her actions went from the merely pleasurable to the seriously arousing, and he arched his pelvis upward in a quest to drive himself into the back of her throat. Usually when he moved thus she responded exactly as he desired, gliding her lips down the length of his erection until he was firmly planted in her mouth. But tonight, she surprised him by releasing him entirely and raising her head, instead. 

"Did you remember to set the silencing charm on the door?" she asked. 

"What?" he demanded incredulously, craning his head from its cradle of pillows. His breath was coming in short bursts.

"Just checking," she pouted. "I didn't think you'd want anyone to be able to hear us, that's all."

"Yes, I set the damn charm," he said, pressing her back toward his bobbing erection. "Nobody ever comes down here after hours anyway, you know that."

"You're right, of course," she replied, leaning forward to take him in her mouth again. This cut his irritated sigh off in mid-stream, replacing it with a relieved groan. 

Using her thumb and forefinger to create a tight ring around the base of his stiff cock, she jerked upwards at the same time that her mouth descended. When her lips and fingers met, she reversed their movements, stimulating his entire length almost simultaneously. It was a glorious combination and he gritted his teeth together as the pressure began building in his balls once more. Damn! Where had she learned to do this? 

The prickling began at the base of his spine and was soon spreading through his body like wildfire. He was getting close, so close…. just a few more nods of her head and he would get there…

And then, inexplicably, she pulled back from him a second time. "You know, Harry said the funniest thing at breakfast this morning," she said. 

Severus roared his frustration at having the rug snatched out from under him in such an abrupt fashion – again. "For the love of the gods, Hermione!" he raged. "What is the matter with you tonight? Why did you come down here if you can't concentrate on what you're doing?" 

She slid her way up his body, each hard nipple tracing a separate path on his chest. Then, curling her fingers into the matted locks at the nape of his neck, she smiled coyly. "I know exactly what I'm doing," she murmured, flicking her tongue against his sensitive earlobe. "I want to hear you beg." She kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip while she worried the smooth head of his cock with her palm. 

He allowed the kiss and the teasing. For a moment. Then he pushed her back on the bed and smiled down at her coldly. 

"I never beg," he said smoothly. "But it might be interesting to hear you do so." 

Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he pointed it at her and muttered a binding spell. A set of magical ropes shot from the end of the wand, tying Hermione's wrists together tightly and securing them over her head to the metal cross rail. He repeated the spell and two more ropes appeared, cinching her ankles to the posters at the foot of the bed. 

"Yes, very interesting indeed…" he mused. 

Her self-satisfied expression faded as the ropes stretched her legs apart. "Severus, what are you doing?" she asked nervously as he stood and drew an armchair up beside the bed. 

"I think you should call me 'Professor,' Miss Granger," he replied, settling into the chair, "as I am about to teach you a lesson." He extended his wand once again. " _Voluptas preoccupo!_ " 

She had only a moment to crank over the meaning of the unfamiliar Latin words in her mind before a pleasant tingling began between her legs. He was not touching her, but the sensations continued, as though Something were gently rolling her clit between Its fingers, experimenting with it to see what brought her pleasure. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling, thinking that if this was his way of teaching her a lesson it wasn't half bad. The feeling built slowly for a while, then faded away. 

Moments later it was back, and the pressure built to a slightly higher peak. She moaned and arched her hips upward, seeking out the source of the friction, wanting to grind against it but finding nothing there to press against. Waves of pleasure washed over her, then ebbed once more. 

"What did you do to me?" she gasped as the sensations hit her again, harder still. Her nipples were prickling now, too, sending even more shockwaves racing toward her clit.

"An ancient spell, designed to enhance the female sexual response," he replied in his best professorial tone. "Used primarily in the Medieval period, when it was considered shameful for women to enjoy sex and wizards wanted to… loosen them up. Some say it was also used as a form of torture in those days, though how such pleasure could be considered such is a mystery to me."

"I can understand tha – oh!" she cried, as the waves burst upon her once more, forcing a guttural cry from the back of her throat. She writhed against her bonds as the spell pushed her yet higher. It was the most incredible feeling she'd ever had in her life, this total loss of control over her own responses. Yet at the same time it was incredibly frustrating, as it dawned on her that her arousal would continue to build with each wave but she would not be allowed to climax. 

Like Sisyphus, the Greek king condemned by Zeus to spend eternity rolling a stone up a hill only to have it roll back down when he reached the top, she was repeatedly lifted to the very precipice of ultimate pleasure and then denied. The waves crashed over her again and again, driving her higher with each reiteration, then dumping her to the ground only long enough for the tingles to fade before beginning anew. Soon, the world was spinning around her, the only fixed point her screaming clit while the rest of her body twitched and contracted around it. 

Snape watched in fascination as she bucked and twisted on the bed. _There's nothing more erotic than watching a beautiful woman battling to reach release,_ he thought. The spell would not allow it, of course, and he could keep her in this suspended state for as long as he chose. It was an enticing thought. His cock was hard as a diamond but he refrained from touching it. 

"Severus, please…" she panted, her arched back nearly forming an inverted U as yet another spasm of pleasure burst over her, "I…. I won't tease you like that again, I promise!" The wave retreated, leaving her trembling. "Please, make it stop! I'll go mad!"

"How can I be sure you'll keep that promise?" he asked, eyeing the heaving girl with undisguised lust. 

"I swear it!" she wailed. "Please, I'm begging you!"

He sighed in mock irritation. "Very well, I supposed you've learned your lesson." He waved his wand carelessly in her direction, saying, " _Voluptas compleo!"_

And finally, _finally_ she got her reward as a prolonged, intensely powerful orgasm ripped through her. It felt as if every muscle in her body was contracting simultaneously, and she flailed helplessly in its possession. It seemed to last a very long time and her throat was raw from the animalistic sounds she made by the time it finally passed. She fell back into the mattress, slick with sweat and gasping at the relief of being freed from her torture. 

But no, what was this? Her eyes flew open as another cascade of pressure built between her legs, pushing her forward over the edge of yet another mind-blowing orgasm. And no sooner had that climax finished than another one began filling her. "No, no," she pleaded as the third one hit, her body twisting in its bonds to escape the invisible force that sent her clit into overdrive. She couldn't decide which was worse, the denial of pleasure or this enforcement of it.

Finally, Snape could stand no more. He approached the screaming girl on the bed and released the binding spell from her legs, leaving her arms tied above her head. "Don't touch me," she implored, "I couldn't bear it now." But he ignored her pleading and, hiking her legs in the air so that her ankles were balanced on his shoulders, he slid his aching erection between her swollen lips. She was so slippery and congested with the juices of desire that he had to push against her with all his might in order to keep her from ejecting him. 

The sensation of her muscles contracting in orgasm around his hard shaft were delightful, and he found he didn't even have to move to become highly aroused. Instead, he plowed in to the hilt and let her body do all the work. "Again!" he cried as another of her orgasms clenched around him, squeezing his prick from head to base like a tightly coiled, highly lubricated hand. "Again! Again!" 

Her inner muscles finally reached the point where they were overburdened from the constant contractions and could no longer release their grip. Only then did he begin moving his hips, fucking her deliciously tight slit with short, urgent strokes. His groans soon matched hers in intensity and volume as his own climax roared through him, speeding up the length of his cock until he was emptying himself deep into her body. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, mouth open in ecstasy as she continued pulsing around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed was spilled. He stayed arched against her, grasping her ankles tightly in his fists until the very last of his spasms had passed. 

Then grabbing up his wand, he panted, _"Voluptas subsisto!"_

Hermione was nearly unconscious by then, and only dimly became aware of the fact that the waves of torturous pleasure had finally subsided. Her head lolled against the pillows as Snape eased his cock out of her and released her wrists from their bonds. 

He would let her stay for a while to sleep it off, he decided, flopping down on the bed next to her. She was in no condition to walk back to Gryffindor tower now, anyway. And as for him, well, he was finally relaxed. Even the thought of dealing with the Hufflepuffs had lost its sting now that the air was thick with the fragrance of their combined juices. He drew her limp hand to his chest and clasped his fingers between hers, squeezing them tightly. 

"Severus…?" she whispered, turning her head slightly in his direction.

"Yes?"

"You're an awful show off, you know that?."

He laughed softly, drawing her hand to his lips for a final kiss. 

They slept.


	3. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Hermione was scraping the last remnants of porridge from the bottom of her bowl when the morning post arrived. As usual, the noise level in the Great Hall increased exponentially when the owls swooped in from overhead, excited voices calling out to one another as care packages from home were ripped open and copies of _The Daily Prophet_ eagerly unrolled to divulge the results of the previous day's professional Quidditch matches. Even the High Table became more animated as the professors hurriedly finished eating in order to enjoy a few moments with their correspondence before the chaos of school day officially began.

A small brown owl clutching an envelope in his beak skidded gracelessly to a stop on the table before Hermione, his outstretched talons sending her empty bowl flying. Folding his wings with a soft ruffle of feathers, he dropped his burden into her outstretched palm, looking very proud of himself. "All right, you," she said, grinning at the little bird as she offered him a bit of toast. "You've only just delivered a letter, don't act as though you defeated You-Know-Who single handedly." 

She turned the envelope over as the owl flew off, and recognizing the handwriting, turned in her seat a bit to hide it from Ron and Harry. _Not that they would notice anyway,_ she thought, tuning out her two friends' usual good-natured argument about some Quidditch nonsense or other. Still, if Ron were to catch a glimpse of his own untidy scrawl across the face of the parchment she held in her hand it would be hard to explain. 

The note was brief:

_Meet me in the sculpture garden at dusk. Don't do anything foolish before I get there._

_RW_

She glanced up quickly at the High Table and saw Snape looking back at her. Dark eyes glittering, he nodded almost imperceptibly before turning to say something to Professor Sprout. It had been his idea to disguise his infrequent letters to her using a charm that allowed him to write in Ron's handwriting. This simple precaution was designed to save them both a lot of grief should one of his letters be intercepted – no one would think twice about a seemingly innocent letter from one friend to another. She had owled him only once in return, a searingly erotic missive written in Professor McGonagall's looping penmanship and signed "MM." Their session the following evening had been punctuated by Hermione's giggles as Severus insisted on calling her "Minerva" even as he fucked her from behind. 

It wasn't that they were particularly worried about how the Hogwarts Powers-That-Be would react to the… nature… of their relationship. After all, she was of age now, and it certainly wasn't the first time a professor had become involved with one of the older students – in fact, Dumbledore himself was the product of a union born of just such a student/teacher relationship. Still, in these uncertain times it was more than usually true that discretion was the better part of valor. Voldemort would certainly not be pleased to learn that one of his Death Eaters was involved with a Muggle-born witch, especially when the Death Eater in question was already near the bottom of his "People I Trust" list. 

Don't do anything foolish before I get there. _I wonder what that's supposed to mean,_ she mused. _Ah well, it's not important._ What was important was the fact that what had originally promised to be just another boring Friday evening with her textbooks was now shaping up into something a great deal more interesting. Already tingling in expectation, she shoved the note into the bottom of her book bag. 

"Let's go," she said, nudging Harry. There was a husky undertone to her voice. "Time for class."

*****

The dying sun painted the sky with streaks of red and orange as Hermione slipped out the front doors of the castle and ran lightly across the grass toward the sculpture garden. It was set in a cove at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, sheltered behind a grove of tall evergreens that effectively blocked it from the view of anyone looking out the castle's eastern windows. Whether the planting of this copse of trees was intentional or not had been the topic of hilarious debate among Hogwarts students for decades, as their strategic placement made the sculpture garden the perfect spot for romantic trysts such as the one Severus had planned for the evening. 

It was a Hogwarts legend that more House points – not to mention virginities – had been lost in the two centuries of the sculpture garden's existence than any other location in the school, though in recent years some cynically said that Snape's dungeon classroom was gaining the upper hand as far as lost House points were concerned. (George Weasley had once declared that Snape's classroom was the setting for more lost innocence, as well, wryly commenting that "Snape screws everybody over at one time or another.") Despite the popularity of the garden as a meeting ground, she was unconcerned that they would be interrupted. Witches and wizards do not have to be alone in order to have privacy – a few well-placed charms and they could shag like rabbits in the middle of Piccadilly Circus if they so desired, with passersby none the wiser. 

Snape was nowhere in evidence when she arrived, so she decided to wander among the statues to pass the time until he showed up. She followed the white gravel path past the likenesses of dozens of prominent Hogwarts students. The House system ruled even here, with the statues segregated into four sections according to the House affiliation of the person immortalized in stone. She expected he would want to meet her in the Slytherin section, and she headed off down the path in that direction.

An unfamiliar sculpture caught her eye as she wandered past the plaque marking the beginning of the Slytherin icons. Most of the statues in the garden depicted wizened old figures, standing upright with wands pointed skyward, rigid robes falling to their feet in stiff waves. But this statue was altogether different. It was the figure of a young-ish looking man molded from gray stone, reclining on an elegantly carved chaise longue which was raised at the head so his upper body was elevated. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his hands tucked behind his head with his elbows akimbo and his face turned upwards toward the sky. His features were strong and handsome, the eyes closed and the lips curved in a contented smile. He looked for all the world like a sunbather visiting the beach to catch a few precious rays of the Scottish sun. A sunbather on a nude beach, she amended internally, as this unusual statue was also most definitely unclothed, his genitals modestly covered with a large stone oak leaf. 

_I wonder who he is_ , she thought, circling the statue to examine it from all sides. There was no identifying marker on the pedestal, which was also odd. Oh well. Perhaps Severus would know. 

And speaking of Severus… _where is he?_ The sun had nearly set by now, and it was unlike him to be late. On impulse, she scrambled up onto the pedestal and sat on the statue's lap, swinging her body around and lying back on the figure's chest to wait and watch the stars come out. The stone beneath her back was still warm from the spring sunshine it had absorbed during the daylight hours. 

A cool breeze played over her body, ruffling the hem of her cotton dress. It felt like dozens of invisible little fingers stroking her skin, and her nipples tightened in response. Or was it the thrill of wondering what Severus had in mind that was doing it? They'd never had sex alfresco before, and she knew from experience that when he suggested something new she was in for a wild ride. The mere thought of it caused a rush of wetness between her legs and she wiggled a bit in the statue's lap, fingers moving to brush against her nipples through the thin fabric. She fought the urge to bunch the dress up around her hips and slip her hand past the elastic waistband of her knickers, wanting Severus's touch to be the first she felt there this night. 

She closed her eyes and thought back over some of their recent escapades as tiny bolts of electric current ran from her breasts to her groin and back again. "God, I hope he gets here soon," she whispered to the night air, clenching her thighs together and pressing her bum against the statue's midsection. Languorously, she reached up over her head and caressed the figure's face, imagining all the while that it was Severus's body she was sprawled upon. She felt her way along the neck to the broad muscular chest, coming to rest on the figure's pebble-sized nipples, teasing them in the way she knew Snape liked best. She could almost hear his hoarse growl as she traced circles around the rocky points with her fingernails. 

Suddenly, the monolith beneath her began to move, and she started in surprise. _An earthquake!_ she thought, panic-stricken, trying to sit up. But strong, cold hands caught hold of her wrists, halting her movements and slowly pulling her arms back up over her head. She twisted her head around to see what was going on, who was holding her captive – but there was no one there. 

With sudden clarity, she realized two things simultaneously. The first was that the statue's hands were no longer tucked behind its head. Instead, incredibly, the fingers were now wrapped inexorably around her wrists. The fists were not curled tightly enough to hurt, but she knew she would not be able to escape them. It was as though her hands were embedded in two concrete slabs. 

And the second thing was that something was rising from between the statue's legs. 

The fig leaf that had covered the figure's genitals had disappeared, and she watched in horrified fascination as a granite erection rose in its place. It unfurled slowly, a stone snake making its way toward the moist patch at the juncture of her thighs. Inch by inch it crept toward her, growing impossibly long as it sought its target. 

She clamped her legs shut as it advanced, whimpering in the back of her throat. The rocky organ continued to stretch and elongate, forcing its way between her thighs, stopping only when it reached the thin nylon barrier of her knickers. She made a sound of relief somewhere between a gasp and sob when it became clear that it would go no further. 

"My, my, my," said a velvety voice. "What have we here?" 

"Severus!" she cried as Snape appeared near at her feet. "Thank God you're here! Help me get away from this thing!"

"Now why on earth would I want to do that?" he replied, running his hand up the length of her leg as he came around to her side. "I did warn you not to do anything foolish before I got here," he continued when her mouth dropped open in surprise at his response.

"I had no idea what you meant!" she spluttered. "I certainly never expected anything like this to happen!"

He clucked his tongue. "My dear Miss Granger, you have been attending school here for seven years. Haven't you realized by now that… anything can happen at Hogwarts?" His eyes fell to her chest where the outlines of her straining nipples were clearly visible in the fading light. "And I think that, protests not withstanding, you are enjoying this a great deal." 

With that, he bent his head and drew one cloth-covered peak into his mouth, pinching it lightly between his front teeth. She inhaled with a sharp hiss as he suckled, arching upwards to feed more of the sensitive flesh into his mouth, then pressing down again as the long fingers of his left hand worked their way into the crotch of her knickers. "Mmmmm, yes," he murmured against her breast, feeling the damp heat beneath his fingertips. "A great deal indeed." 

She could only moan in response as he abruptly slid two fingers into her aching cunt and returned his attention to the swollen bud of nerves he stretched between his lips. A few quick strokes and her hips were wiggling of their own volition. 

"Ahh, but we're forgetting our friend here," Snape purred, angling his hand upwards and withdrawing his fingers in a slow, tortuous movement that drew their length along her singing clit. "This poor fellow has been waiting almost a century for an opportunity like this." 

With that, he murmured a charm that caused the clothes to melt from both of their bodies. He climbed up onto the statue and straddled its legs. Hooking one arm under each of Hermione's thighs, he drew them apart and raised them up slightly. The stone cock was now in perfect position. Another soft incantation and it began to grow again, lengthening and thickening as it crept forward. Hermione squealed as the cold stone slid home. 

Snape growled deep in his throat as she twitched and gasped at the icy touch, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her cunt being stretched and fed by the magical appendage. When the statue's cock was seated securely, he bowed his head and began tickling her bloated clit with the tip of his tongue. The taste of her arousal was both sweet and salty, its aroma both subtle and overpowering, and he lapped at her with abandon, her thighs quivering around his ears as he worked. Long minutes passed as he nudged and kissed, flicked and fluttered at the very center of her, sweet torture indeed. She keened when he finally clamped his lips around her aching clit, pinching the oversensitive hood just above his lips between thumb and forefinger. 

Unable to contain himself any longer Snape reared back, shouting the charm that would release Hermione from the statue's grip. The statue's hands and cock withdrew immediately and he fell atop her, sliding into fast and hard. Burying his head between her neck and shoulder, he flailed his hips against her, slicing into her balls deep with every thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his back and held on for dear life, wailing his name as he drove. His orgasm came high and sharp and he threw his head back, eyes closed and teeth bared as he spent himself within her. 

She traced the outline of his neck lovingly with her palms, feeling the vibrations of his groans beneath her fingers. His pulse throbbed against her hand as his erection throbbed between her legs, the pace of both slowing as he came down. Then, lowering his head, he captured her mouth with his own, kissing her gently as his chest heaved with his labored breaths. They luxuriated in the afterglow, holding each other and making lover's small talk until they were calm enough to disentangle themselves and get dressed. 

He held her hand as they retraced their steps toward the castle, the uncharacteristically affectionate gesture surprising her almost more than anything else that had passed between them that night. The moon was high in the sky by the time they reached the front door. They slipped inside, and after quickly determining that the coast was clear, kissed lightly one last time before Hermione turned to go. 

"Thanks for the lovely evening, Ron," she whispered, pressing her lips against one sensitive earlobe. 

"Next time heed my advice, Minerva," he replied, "and stay out of trouble. Ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew."


	4. Shadow Puppets

The dungeons of Hogwarts are always dark. Always. Midday and midnight look the same, and time seems to stand still because there is no sunlight to mark the passage from day into night. To one such as Severus Snape, who never truly began to feel alive until the sun went down, such an environment is akin to paradise. It was no coincidence that the animal his students compared him to most often was the bat – he luxuriated in the cover of darkness and would never have left it if the demands of his stomach did not require him to venture into the Great Hall three times a day. Given his druthers the only light he would ever have in his chambers would be firelight, and even then from only a very low fire, just enough to keep him from barking his shins on the furniture as he glided from bed to desk and back again. 

Hermione, on the other hand, was a morning person. One of those perky, jump-out-of-bed-with-a-smile-ready-to-face-the-challenges-of-the-new-day type people that usually made Snape want to commit a particularly grisly murder. She hated the darkness, and her presence in his chambers always meant he was forced to endure a room filled with light, not just from the fire, but from the wall torches and dozens of candles, as well. 

This morning was no exception. It was one of those rare mornings-after where she had spent the night with him, her naked warmth curled around his body, the pillow of her breasts firm against his upper arm and the moist curls between her legs pressed evocatively against his hip. She awoke to the darkness and disentangled herself from his grasping limbs slowly, shivering as the cool air rushed in to displace his body heat. Groping on the bedside table for her wand, she flicked it sleepily until bright blobs of flame appeared on candles and torches all across the room. A glance at the clock told her she had plenty of time to get back to Gryffindor Tower before the earliest risers noticed she had not spent the night in her own room. 

"Severus?" she whispered. 

He stirred sleepily, his mind and body still heavy with the satiation of the night before. "Mmph?" he grunted. It was only in this half-awake/half-asleep state that he was robbed of his usual eloquence. 

"I need to get going."

"What?" he managed, reluctantly dragging himself upwards through the levels of sleep. 

"I said I have to go." 

"Then go," he rasped. "Go and let my poor, abused body get the rest it so desperately needs." 

"You have to let me through the wards, remember?"

He groaned. "All right. Give me five more minutes and I'll drag my sorry bones out of bed."

She grinned and kissed the point of his chin. Five minutes would be plenty of time for her to get dressed. 

She was just fastening the clasp on her robe when he stumbled past her into the bathroom, muttering under his breath. The call of nature answered, he re-appeared a few minutes later looking a great deal more alert. The hair around his forehead was damp from the water he had splashed on his face. "Come on, then," he grumped. 

"Give me a second, please. I can't find my other shoe." 

He sighed and crossed the room to his desk, flipping through a stack of parchment while she located the errant footwear. When she was properly shod, she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Happy birthday," she said softly, trailing her lips across his shoulder blade. 

"My birthday isn’t until tomorrow."

"Happy birthday a day early, then."

"Don't remind me," he replied. "The older I get, the younger you seem."

"It never bothered you before."

"I've never been this old before." 

She kissed him again, tracing patterns on his lean stomach with her fingertips. "I'm crazy about you, you know," she said. 

"Mmm," he responded. His tone was noncommittal, but she chose to interpret it as his way of saying, "Me you." By way of reward she allowed her hands to move slowly down his torso, palms lazily cutting whorls through the path of hair on his abdomen. He relaxed slightly and leaned back into her embrace when her fingers curled around his flaccid cock. A few gentle strokes and it began to rise against her palm, growing warmer and stiffer as the blood rushed to fill it.

"Nothing old about you, Severus," she whispered, beginning to pump him in earnest. 

He groaned, reaching behind him to clasp her arse and pull her pelvis against his naked bum. She glanced to her left and saw their shadows flickering against the wall in the torchlight, the silhouette of his body beautifully enhanced by the dark erection jutting from his midsection. 

Her hand was moving faster now, her grip tighter as she made sure to tease the whole of the sensitive shaft with each stroke. Pearly drops of pre-come leaked from its apex, and they provided a tantalizing source of lubrication as she fisted them along his length. His vocalizations become louder as he abandoned himself to the pleasure. 

This was what she had been waiting for. Surreptitiously, she drew her wand from her robe and pointed it at his shadow. The sound of her voice was lost to his moans of ecstasy, and he was so immersed in sensation that he did not see his shadow freeze and solidify on the wall. Another murmured charm and the shadow seemed to fold in upon itself, shrinking down until it was no larger than a matchbook. Then it peeled away from the wall entirely and floated across the room, coming to rest in the palm of her wand hand. After stuffing both it and her wand back into her pocket, she reached around his body with the now free hand and began stroking the tender patch of skin just behind his balls. 

"I've a surprise for you tomorrow," she said, hand still jerking at his swollen flesh. His knees were trembling now, and she knew it wouldn't be much longer. "Something you've always wanted." 

He didn't answer. He couldn't even if he wanted to, for at that moment his balls erupted and spewed their contents over her hand. She stroked him again and again, enjoying his throaty sounds of pleasure as the ropy strands of ejaculate spilled across his desk. When they released their hold on each other, he slumped forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk as his knees buckled beneath him. 

"That's going to be a bit difficult to explain to the third years, isn't it," she grinned, gesturing toward the now ruined stack of parchments he had been examining earlier. 

He turned his head and glared at her from behind a tangled mass of raven hair, his lips parted as he fought to catch his breath. "No worries. They all failed the test, anyway. My birthday present to myself." He straightened slowly, shaking each leg in turn to get the blood flowing in them again. "Well. That was an interesting way to start the day. Now let’s get you out of here so an old man can get back to his sleep."

***

_"Talk to me, Severus. Tell me what you want."_

_He dropped to his knees behind her and pulled her hips up into position. "I want to fuck you in public," he growled, rubbing the head of his swollen prick against the slick heat of her lower lips. "I want to ravage you on the steps of the Ministry of Magic. I want to shag you senseless on the street in front of Gringotts." He slid deep and they groaned together as her tight cunt opened to accept him. "I want. To make. You scream. In the. Great Hall." Each phrase was punctuated by another balls-deep thrust. "I want. To make. You come. In front. Of the whole school…"_

_And then he was no longer capable of expressing his desires verbally._

***

Snape was late for dinner the following night, and Hermione was beginning to get nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all, and all of her careful planning would be for naught. She knew he hated to have any fuss made over his birthday, but true to form Dumbledore had ignored his wish that the day pass unacknowledged. His place at the High Table was decorated with a semi-circle of lit candles, and two gaily colored balloons bobbed above the back of his chair. _He’s going to go crazy when he sees that, she thought, stifling a giggle._

Sure enough, when he entered the Great Hall and saw the manner in which his place had been defiled, his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. If Dumbledore had not jumped from his seat the moment Snape walked in and guided him to his chair with a vast smile, Hermione was sure he would have turned on his heel and stalked right back out again. The balloons above his head exploded with a particularly loud POP as he took his seat, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. 

The gabbling of voices quieted as Dumbledore tapped his water goblet with the side of his spoon. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Severus Snape." He stood and lifted his goblet, and the entire assembly rose to its feet as one, mimicking his actions. "Many happy returns of the day, Severus. Cheers." 

"Cheers," came the half-hearted response from the students, and everyone drank in Snape’s honor. 

"One year closer to death," Ron said gleefully, gulping his drink. 

Hermione watched her lover carefully, and as he disdainfully raised his goblet in response to their well wishes, she drank at the same moment he did. She could only hope that Dobby had spiked the right goblet with the potion she had brewed that morning. The same potion in her own glass made the pumpkin juice taste especially sweet, and she downed it in a single swallow. At the High Table, Severus was licking his lips appreciatively – apparently he liked the taste of it, as well. _Bless you Dobby_ , she thought happily. Sometimes it paid to have friends in low places.

Vast platters of food appeared, and conversation resumed as everybody began to tuck in. When Hermione determined that no one was paying attention to the High Table any longer, she bowed her head and whispered into her plate.

"Severus. Can you hear me?"

Snape stiffened in his seat and stopped in mid-chew. "Who is it?" he responded, his voice low and tense.

"It’s me," she replied, glancing up at him. His eyes raked the crowd of students before coming to rest on hers. "Are you ready for your birthday present?"

"Hermione. What have you done? What’s going on?"

"Relax, Severus. I’ve brewed a sensory enhancement potion for us. Only you and I will be able to see and hear what’s going to happen, so long as you keep your voice down."

He cocked one eyebrow at her before casually picking up his fork and continuing to eat. "I see," he said. "And precisely what is going to happen?" 

"Watch and you’ll see."

Under the table, she reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew two small black objects and her wand. Tossing the objects onto the floor, she quietly cast a spell. 

Ghostly forms streamed out from under the table, unfurling themselves as they moved. They shimmered darkly as they floated by, growing larger until they revealed themselves to be two shadows. One was the shadow of Snape she had acquired the previous morning, the dark hard-on still evident between its legs. The other shadow was her own. She had captured it that afternoon after spending a good long time getting herself worked up into a fevered state of sexual excitement. Its nipples were tight and engorged, just as hers had been, and Snape’s eyes widened when he saw it.

"Oh God," he murmured. 

The two dark forms halted in front of his place at the High Table and immediately melted into each other’s arms. The spell she cast over them meant both she and Snape could feel exactly what their shadows were doing, as though they were together and performing the act themselves. She felt Snape’s arms encircling her waist as his shadow embraced hers, felt his lips attack her neck as his shadow mouthed her silhouette in the same fashion. And she knew he could also feel it. One quick glance around the room told her this spectacle went unnoticed by everyone else around them, and she smiled triumphantly. It was working!

"Your wish is my command," she whispered. 

The two figures wasted little time with foreplay – after all, they had both been captured at a time when their corporeal counterparts were already nearing climax. A few hurried kisses and shadow Snape turned shadow Hermione around, bending her over at the waist so she could grab her ankles. In one rough movement, he stabbed his hips forward and the dark prick was suddenly engulfed in her nebulous form. 

Hermione twitched in her seat and stifled a gasp as she felt the penetration. It was the most incredible thing she had ever felt, this mysterious act of being fucked in front of the whole school. For his part, Snape had stopped eating and was watching the two figures intently, sweat breaking out on his brow. His shadow humped Hermione furiously with long deliberate strokes that sizzled through his own crotch like lightning. Dear God, he was going to come in record time if this kept up. 

The forms stopped moving only long enough to switch positions. Shadow Hermione pulled away and turned around, then jumped into Shadow Snape’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. With her arms around his neck, she slipped back down onto his prick and took it to the hilt. Shadow Snape then carried her around the room, walking past tables of students gaily engaged in their usual dinnertime conversations. The real life Hermione and Snape were in a bad way throughout this little jaunt, each one desperately close to orgasm, yet trying to keep the fact from those around them. 

The two figures eventually tired of their walk and decided to retire to the High Table. Shadow Snape reclined on his back, his long body stretched out directly in front of Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Dumbledore. Shadow Hermione scrambled up on top of him and once again sank down on that unflagging erection, and the real life Hermione thought she would die from the pleasure of it. Her silhouette ground her hips against Snape at precisely the right angle to bring her clit into agonizing contact with his cock, and in no time at all an orgasm roared through her like the Hogwarts Express. No longer able to control herself, she threw her head back and groaned with abandon, a loud, low purr of pleasure that turned every head at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

"Hermione!" Harry cried, alarmed. "Are you all right?"

The girl could not answer him for a moment, and Ron, believing she was choking, began to pound on her back. "Hermione! What is it?"

Slowly she came back to herself and swallowed hard, fighting to catch her breath. "I’m fine, I’m fine. I…. er… this chicken is just… really good…" she mumbled, gesturing toward her plate. She could feel the flush of her orgasm staining her cheeks and wondered if her friends could see her straining nipples through her Gryffindor sweater. 

"Wow," she heard Lavender Brown remark to her neighbor. "I want some of what she’s having." 

"Oh God," she heard Snape gasp. She looked up in time to see him drop his head to his chest, but not before his face contorted in an intense climax of his own. "Stop them, stop them," he moaned. "I can’t take anymore."

The shadows evaporated. 

Hermione was immensely pleased with the results of her birthday surprise. "Did you enjoy it?" she whispered. 

"Ohhh yes," came his quiet response. "I haven’t enjoyed my birthday so much in years. Thank you, my…. love." 

It was the first time he had ever said it, and her heart took a sudden leap at this declaration. Giving in to the flood of happiness that suddenly swept through her chest, she beamed.

"What are you so happy about?" Ron asked suspiciously, noting her Cheshire cat-like expression. 

"Nothing," she replied through her smile. "Nothing at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line "I want some of what she’s having" is a variation of the famous "I’ll have what she’s having" line from the film When Harry Met Sally.


	5. Guest Appearances

"Severus, how many women have you been with?"

Snape had been gleefully preparing to slash red ink through a large section of Dennis Creevey’s essay on mandrake restorative draught when Hermione spoke. The question stilled his quill in mid-swoop. She sat in an armchair near the fireplace, feet curled up beneath her and a textbook balanced on her knees, a look of eager curiosity mixed with melancholy expectation on her face. He groaned inwardly at her expression, fervently hoping this wasn’t the start of one of the "where-is-this-relationship-going" discussions he had heard so many of his contemporaries complaining about.

Carefully, he laid his quill on the pile of parchment and laced his fingers together on top of it, considering his answer. Tricky situation, this. She would probably be appalled if he told her the actual number of women he’d slept with over the years. That was the sole benefit of being a Death Eater, really – they got lots and lots (and LOTS) of sex. Voldemort had always been a kinky bastard, but he had one major flaw since his second incarnation three years ago, namely, his new body did not have the necessary… er… equipment to gratify his bizarre sexual appetites. As it turned out, the missing finger on the hand Wormtail had "donated" to complete the reincarnation potion was to have been the Dark Lord’s new cock. An unfortunate oversight on Voldemort’s part, and one which Snape believed Pettigrew was privately laughing his arse off about. He was very glad he had not been present at the Death Eater’s gathering where Voldemort made the unpleasant discovery that he was now as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll. (He still wasn’t sure how Voldemort managed to take a piss, but he tried hard not to think about it too much.)

In any case, He-Who-Could-No-Longer-Get-It-On now had to settle for watching his merry band of Death Eaters performing the acts he had once enjoyed rather than indulging in them himself. Which was still pretty much okay with him, as the Death Eaters were a horny bunch who would fuck just about anything that moved. And up until the time he and Hermione had begun to play "co-ed, full-body contact naked Quidditch" (as Potter so charmingly referred to sex), Snape had been an eager participant in Voldemort’s perverse games. In fact, he was fairly sure that was what kept the Dark Lord from killing him outright when he re-appeared on the scene after Voldemort’s rebirth. If nothing else, he could always be counted on to provide an entertaining show.

But he did not think Hermione would be interested in hearing the reasoning behind his promiscuity right now. She was far more interested in "how many" to be worried about "why." 

Still, he did not want to lie to her. She deserved better than that. So after deliberating for a moment on how best to respond, he simply said, "Many."

She smiled sadly at this non-answer. "That’s what I thought."

"Are you regretting the fact that you are not out now, sowing your wild oats?" His tone did not waver, but he was decidedly uncomfortable with the turn the discussion was taking. 

"A little," she admitted with a small shrug, turning her gaze back to the book in her lap. 

The answer stung him more than he cared to admit, but a part of him understood. He was her first lover, and if things continued the way they were going he would likely be her last lover, as well. 

Clearing his throat, he asked, "What are you studying?" He didn’t really care, but he was desperate to change the subject before one or the other of them said something they would regret. 

"Advanced Transfiguration. We just finished the section on Transfiguring into another person." 

"Ah. Interesting topic." He sniffed. As far as he was concerned, Polyjuice potion was the only _proper_ way to change into someone else, but if Minerva wanted to waste her time…

"Oh, it is," she agreed, suddenly looking a great deal more animated. "Watch this." Unfolding her legs from beneath her, she pulled her wand out of her robe and pointed it at her mid-section. "Rita Skeeter!" she cried. Snape watched in fascination as the young girl slowly morphed into the older, bespectacled reporter. "How’s that?" she asked proudly. 

Apparently, she had not quite perfected the spell yet, as the voice coming from Rita’s mouth was definitely Hermione’s. But all in all he could not help but be impressed. It was rather an advanced bit of magic, even for a seventh-year student. "Not bad, not bad," he said, rising to his feet and circling the desk to stand before her chair. "An interesting choice, I must say. Considering the way our dear Miss Skeeter screwed you and your friends over a few years back, I would never have thought you would choose her for a Transfiguration project." 

"Rita" looked up at Snape with Hermione’s mischievous glint in her eye. How strange it was to see it on another face! "I didn’t, not really," she replied. "I just wanted to show you what I could do." She licked her lips and blinked up at him suggestively. "How would you like the opportunity to do to Rita what she did to us?" 

He sank to his knees in front of the chair and kneeled between her legs, grasping her hips in his hands. "No thanks," he sneered. "I’d rather have my Hermione back, if it’s all the same to you." 

She smiled down at him and changed back as he continued speaking. "But it could be an interesting way for you to satisfy your curiosity about being with another man." He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. "Pick someone to Transfigure me into," he whispered hotly against her ear, "and let’s give it a go." 

Her eyes widened at the thought as she leaned into his caresses. Was he serious? He must be – Snape had never been one to tease her, at least not verbally. How intriguing the idea was! Now she could have her way with half the men at Hogwarts if she wanted to, and all without betraying her relationship with Snape. A delicious thought, indeed. 

The only problem was – where to start? 

When she did not respond right away, Snape mistook her contemplation of the riches before her for hesitation. "Come on, then," he urged, sliding his hands up each of her legs until they disappeared beneath the hemline her skirt. "Surely there is someone else at this school that you have been wondering about. Mr Weasley, perhaps? Or even" – he paused, swallowing the lump of disgust that rose in his throat – "Mr Potter?" 

There. If agreeing to be Transfigured into the miserable Boy Who Kept On Living Only Because Snape Kept Saving His Sorry Arse didn’t prove his feelings for her, nothing ever would. 

But she grimaced at the very idea. "Eww, no," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "Harry and Ron are like my brothers. No thanks."

"Someone else, then?" His fingers were now running lightly along the juncture of her torso and upper thigh, in the deliciously warm area just on the innocent side of her bikini line. She wiggled in her chair in an attempt to bring his fingers closer to the tingling center of her, but he would not be budged.

"You’re going to think I’m weird…" she hedged. 

He blinked. "Hermione. After everything we’ve done together, you need have no fear of that. I already _know_ you’re weird." 

"Point well taken. All right then," – she took a deep breath – "I guess I’ve always wondered if Dumbledore’s beard would tickle…" 

He was unable to suppress his laugh. She was right – that _was_ weird. "Very well, then," he replied, dissolving their clothing with a wave of his hand. "Let’s find out."

With a shaking hand, she leveled her wand between his eyes and said, "Albus Dumbledore." 

Snape’s raven black hair and dark, smoldering eyes were instantly transformed into Dumbledore’s white shock and twinkle. He was still kneeling between her legs, so all she could see of the Headmaster’s body were his bare shoulders and part of his chest, the remainder being covered by his long hair and beard. He was about to rise to his feet and offer her his hand, intending to lead her over to the bed, when she sat bolt upright in the chair. 

"Don’t stand up!" she cried, pressing down on the thin shoulders. "The last thing in the world I want to see is the Headmaster’s… er… package." 

Snape glanced downward at the shriveled twig lying so forlornly atop his right thigh and instantly made a mental note to gouge his eyes out with the first sharp object he came across once he was back in his own body. "Yes, well, I’m afraid it won’t be of much use to us in any case," he replied dryly. He would never look at Dumbledore the same way again after this. 

"That’s okay," she breathed, her face and chest flushing bright pink with embarrassment. "I was only interested in finding out how the beard felt, anyway."

"Well then, let’s get on with the experiment." The strange hands tugged her hips forward until her bum was teetering right on the edge of the seat cushion, then pushed her thighs apart as far as they could comfortably go. 

Her eyes fluttered closed as Snape gently brushed her inner thighs with Dumbledore’s cheeks – first one side, then the other – moving slowly so she could fully experience the gentle kiss of the older man’s whiskers on her sensitive skin. She twitched with surprise as he tickled her labia with the silky moustache, smearing it with her fragrance. _Albus always did have a sweet tooth_ he thought as he ducked the slightly-smaller-than-he-was-used-to tongue straight into the succulent center of her body. 

She groaned and tightened her grip on the arms of the chair, arching her back in order to thrust herself more fully against the talented mouth. He responded by nodding his head vigorously as he tongued her, dragging the Headmaster’s shaggy chin and moustache across her flesh as much as he could. The combination of sensations felt deliciously wicked against her sensitive clit, but long after she normally would have flared into orgasm she found she just couldn’t let go enough to let it happen. When her hands moved to stroke the head bobbing so diligently between her legs and she felt the rough white strands of hair instead of the familiar sleek black ones, she opened her eyes and gently pushed him back. 

"No," she wheezed. "This isn’t right. It’s too different. Let’s try someone else." 

He merely nodded, eyes studying her calmly over the now fogged half-moon spectacles. 

She raised her wand again. "Sirius Black!" 

A moment later, a large black dog stood before her, long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he panted. She yelped in surprise as the animal pinned her to the chair with his front paws and began lapping at her face, positioning his hips in such a way that his long pink erection was just inches from her opening. "No, no, this isn’t what I expected at all!" she shouted, pushing the dog away with a strength she did not realize she possessed. He stumbled back and she scrambled up from the chair just as he leapt forward again. "Stay!" she shouted, and the dog obediently sat on the cushion, his dark eyes flashing with amusement. Once she caught her breath she couldn’t help but laugh at the look of pure Snape-like humor on the animal’s muzzle. "Well. That didn’t work out very well, did it. Let’s try… Remus Lupin!"

Ah, that was better. Wherever Remus was, he was apparently eating more regularly these days because the body before her had filled out wonderfully since the last time she saw him. He was still lean but his chest was more muscular than she imagined it would be, his arms and legs firm with ropy sinew that flexed in a most tantalizing manner when he moved. And oh, nestled between the toned thighs was the most beautiful cock Hermione had ever seen. It was not overly long but it was thick and heavily veined with a large head that seemed to beckon to her from across the room. She could not take her eyes from it as she took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them. With no preamble, she climbed into his lap and straddled his thighs, dropping down onto that delectable cock so it bottomed out in a single stroke. 

"Mmmmm," she purred, licking her lips as she danced on the werewolf’s lap. Now this… this was more like it!

Snape sat watching the pleasure play itself out on Hermione's face, enjoying the uninhibited way she voiced her gratification as she rode him. But he did not move beneath her, did not respond in any way, and after a few minutes she seemed to notice that he was completely detached from what was going on. 

"You realize, of course, that Lupin would not enjoy this at all," he drawled as her movements began to slow. 

"Oh?" she replied in a breathy voice. "And why is that?"

"Because he is gay, my dear." Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock and Snape had to laugh at her expression. "Didn’t you know?" 

"Is he really?"

"Oh yes. As gay as the day is long. He and Black had quite the thing going when we were students here." 

She stopped moving altogether. "Sirius is gay, too?"

"Well… let’s just say Black plays for both teams," he responded, his voice colored with suppressed laughter. 

She paused for a moment, digesting this last bit of news. Then a sudden thought struck her. "If Remus is gay, why does his body have this bloody great hard-on?" she demanded.

"Well, it’s still me in here, isn’t it?" Snape replied. "And by God I wish I could have taken your picture when you first caught sight of it. You looked like a starving man seeing his first decent meal in a week." He reached out to pinch one of her puckered nipples. "A less self-confident man than myself would have felt quite put out by that, I must say." 

She shook her head, disappointed to the marrow to learn Lupin’s body would never respond to her the way she wanted it to. "If Remus is gay, this simply isn’t right. We’re going to have to try again." She grabbed her wand and aimed it at the middle of that gorgeous chest. "Draco Malfoy!"

The body beneath her shrank just a bit, losing some muscle tone as the graying hair dissolved into an impeccably coifed mane of snowy white. She braced her hands on Draco’s shoulders and began rocking back and forth in his lap, breathlessly anticipating the rush of pleasure that was sure to follow. 

But wait. Something was wrong. She twitched against him again, but all she could feel was the pressure of his pubic bone pressing against hers. She looked down at their joined bodies but could see nothing beyond the smooth hairless chest. 

"Is it in?" she said finally, looking up to see Draco’s face break into peals of delighted laughter. 

"Yes," Snape gasped by way of response, convulsing with guffaws. "It certainly is."

Wow. Who knew Malfoy was hung like a Tic Tac? She was going to have to file _this_ bit of information away for use on a rainy day. 

"Small wonder he keeps pestering his father for the biggest and fastest racing brooms, eh?" Snape snickered. 

She tried a few more experimental humps, hoping to feel _something_ in her nether regions besides Draco’s thatch of coarse pubic hair tickling her inner thighs. But after a few moments she decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Sighing, she drew her wand one last time, determined to try someone she knew would be up to the task at hand. 

"Rubeus Hagrid." 

Well. Talk about going from the ridiculous to the sublime! Hagrid’s huge body nearly overflowed the chair in which they were seated, and she was suddenly perched so high in the air that she had to grab onto the broad shoulders to keep from toppling off. She could feel the cock within her expanding to meet the size of the new body, and for a moment she felt totally and wonderfully filled. This was more like it! 

But it did not stop. It continued to swell and grow as Hagrid’s body took shape beneath her, and she was soon bursting with it. She could not stifle a sharp cry of pain as she grabbed up her wand before it could crawl up her throat and out of her mouth. 

"Severus Snape! Severus Snape!" she cried. 

And the familiar form coalesced in the chair below her. She collapsed against his chest as he ran his hands over her back, stroking her skin with strong fingers in a comfortably intimate manner that soothed her immeasurably. For a long while, they sat together, content, their ribcages rising and falling in concert. Then she began flexing her inner muscles around him and he squirmed in the seat, grinding their genitals together in a practiced gesture that immediately set her aflame. She sat up and lightly grasped him by the collarbone, gently easing her way up and down on his shaft as he cupped her breasts in his hands. Their movements quickened as their arousal grew, and soon each of them was shouting the other’s name as they peaked. 

When they were sated and his softening prick had slipped out of her, she curled up in his lap and leaned her head back against his chest so she could both hear his heart beating and feel its throb against her cheek. "Did you enjoy your… experiment… my love?" he whispered, gently kissing the top of her head. 

"Well, it was certainly…. interesting," she replied softly. "And I did learn that I’m not missing out on a thing. I have everything I need right here." She patted his chest and looked up at him with such a loving expression on her face that his heart leapt at the sight of it. "With you." 

He merely smiled down at her, not trusting himself to speak. 

She lowered her head and rested her cheek against his chest again. Neither said anything for a long time, and Snape was just about to drift into a light sleep when Hermione’s voice cut through his reverie. 

"Severus, how many women have you loved?"

This question did not require any time to formulate an answer. Stroking her upper arm with the palm of his hand, he buried his face in her hair and took a deep, contented breath. 

"Just one, Hermione. Just one."


End file.
